


There’s No Such Thing as Trust in Times of War

by mcaulfield



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: AU - Canon Divergence, F/F, Love?, Lust, Post-Battle of Dazar’alor, Sex, Sylvanas Feels An Emotion, Treason, eventual poly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2020-03-20 03:52:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18984703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcaulfield/pseuds/mcaulfield
Summary: The Horde and Alliance are spread thin after the many battles they’ve been fighting on all continents, especially so after the recent Battle of Dazar’alor. Sylvanas wants to take Lordaeron back. But things are never that easy, even if the Alliance has all but forsaken the Forsaken capital.





	1. Lordaeron

**Author's Note:**

> This fic literally spawned from me thinking the title one day and a hefty helping of I Think The World Needs Sylvanas & Valeera To Hook Up. Ultimately this fic will be Sylvanas & Jaina but I won’t do Valeera dirty so don’t worry. Enjoy!

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes in frustration as she looked out over the now-barren, Blight-wasted fields sprawling before the gates of Lordaeron. The memory of the Battle for Lordaeron was still fresh in her mind, months later. How the boy-king and his Alliance dogs had nearly fallen, her city and her peoples’ homeland nearly safe, only for the absent and angry Jaina Proudmoore to sail in through a thick fog in the sky on her father’s fallen ship, freezing the minimal amount of Blight she’d hoped to need in its tracks, forcing Sylvanas to resort to Plan B and let loose a series of releases to an amount of Blight that quite literally _poured_ from her city’s windows over any and every living thing that remained within. And _still_ the boy-king lived.

The chemically-scorched earth and brittle remains of grass paired with the memory of Anduin Wrynn’s shocked, utterly-naive face peering over the edge of Proudmoore’s ship made her scoff with a curled lip. Hurdling over the edge of the wall to land with a quiet thud on the ground below, she ran her fingers through the dirt, feeling what life once grew there now no more than ash below her fingertips. It was a bitter and perverse parallel to the fate she and her Forsaken had befallen — _kept_ befalling, now so displaced as to seek refuge in the corners of Orgrimmar that would tolerate their presence while she tried to busy herself anywhere other than the Orcish homeland.

She’d come to assess the remaining damage, the remaining threat that may exist to her and her people were she to try to return — both from the lingering effects of such a large amount of Blight detonating across the city and from the lingering threat of the Alliance across the Eastern Kingdoms. When she’d made her move on Darnassus, across the seas in Kalimdor, Sylvanas had hoped she’d walk away with a continent secured for the Horde, Teldrassil a suitable replacement for the Undercity.

 _Hope._ Was she really so naive as well? To have thought she could really walk upon the stronghold of the Kaldorei and take it as her own? Had Varok Saurfang been able to slay the Archdruid Malfurion, perhaps. But she overestimated the Orc’s dedication, it seemed, as he was unable to strike down even a weakened foe. His emotions got the better of him — something Sylvanas had the luxury of no longer needing to concern herself much with in undeath. No, she was not naive. She was no fool like the High Overlord was that day. It was just another battle where she was forced to resort to Plan B.

As Sylvanas walked deeper into the Ruins of Lordaeron, frustration festered in her chest, her eyes burning a deeper red. It was always Plan B these days. What ever happened to the kind of militant strategy she’d grown accustomed to both in her days as Ranger-General of Silvermoon and as the Banshee Queen of the Forsaken? Leading a group of nations such as the Horde meant dealing with peoples who did not follow orders as strictly or efficiently as she was used to. They weren’t the well-oiled military power of the Quel’dorei nor the blindly devoted Undead. They were flesh and blood that still quivered with doubt and suspicion, unable to set aside their own fears long enough to trust in the orders of their Warchief — and for what? _Honor?_

Sylvanas scowled. Honor meant _nothing_ if no one lived to see it. Her first death, though objectively _honorable,_ was in vain. When she went to fight at that last bastion between Arthas and Silvermoon, she knew her goal was to save as many as she could before she fell. The memory burned in the scarred flesh where Frostmourne had driven into her, wrenching her soul from her gut. The weaker members of the Horde could boast about honor and sacrifice all they wanted — they didn’t know what it truly meant to sacrifice _everything._ Not like she did.

She pressed two fingertips against the stone beside her, her fingertips tingling dully where the muddy green-grey residue she dragged from the wall wanted but lacked the potency to eat away at her skin. Looking at the residue on her skin disdainfully, Sylvanas stood still in thought. Her Forsaken could likely return soon and clean the rest of it away, if the Alliance so allowed it. Sensing no other disturbances in the area since the Battle for Lordaeron, she knew they didn’t truly want it in order to return it to the living kingdom of the Humans. The boy-king and his mutt wanted it as a piece of political posturing. They’d leave it to rot just like their Alliance did when she approached them once she and her people had finally broken free from Arthas’ control.

She rubbed her thumb against her fingertips, flicking the tainted dust to the ground, knowing she would have lost a layer or two of skin if she were still alive. Living flesh was weak. Maybe that’s why Saurfang had failed to slay Malfurion on Teldrassil. He was aging and jaded. His constitution was weaker than it once was, merely a shadow of the fearsome warrior he was when he became High Overlord of the Orcs. She should have known he would fail to uphold her command. It had been a test, yes, but she had been sure he would _pass_ it. She should have left the task to Nathanos instead, but politically that would have reflected poorly as well. It would have shown to the Horde her _lack_ of trust in the rest of their leadership — which was true, and always had been, but they didn’t need to know that.

Teldrassil would have been a boon. They still would have needed to find a solution to the Draenic islands just off the coast but Kalimdor would have been largely secured. Now, Sylvanas had to find a way to reclaim Lordaeron... _again._ With the Battle of Dazar’alor so fresh in everyone’s minds, political discussions were likely out of the realm of consideration entirely. But what choice did she have, really? Numbers were wearing thin on both sides and, with the looming threat of Azshara releasing N’zoth upon Azeroth and the consequences of such a thing coming to pass that she’d _seen,_ neither the Alliance or the Horde could afford to continue what boiled down to naught more than an arms race in the eyes of the Alliance.

Sylvanas’ nose crinkled as she reached the innermost portions of the Undercity, the acrid remains of the Blight still lingering in the air in such closed-off areas. A few more weeks...a month, at most. Then she could bring some of her sturdier Forsaken into the city to clean it. _If_ she could reclaim it at all. The idea of parley with Anduin Wrynn, the naive and fearful, woefully-insufficient replacement for his father Varian, whom Sylvanas held a fair amount of respect for, made her bristle. With a snarl and a flourish of her cape, she turned her back on the Apothecarium and wove through the sewers with the shadowy speed of her banshee form.

* * *

 

Sylvanas wasn’t sure what was worse, really — the acrid, corrosive air that still lingered in the depths of the Undercity or the rank smell of kodo dung and orcish sweat under the hot Durotan sun. Dulled though her senses were in undeath, she still found certain scents particularly unpleasant. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like if she smelled this while _alive._ She strode through the Valley of Strength quickly with her nose held high, reminding herself not to breathe out of habit to spare herself from the stench.

 _Why_ the Horde had to hold all of its official business in Orgrimmar despite there being no Orcish Warchief since Garrosh, Sylvanas would never understand. She’d lobbied to have business moved, particularly with their focus on the isles of Zandalar, but Horde leadership voted in a slight majority to keep things as they were.

She had business to attend to in Orgrimmar, unfortunately. She needed to make a report on the status of her former stronghold and hear what talk there was in relation to the Alliance — _if_ any of the Horde was able to communicate with them, of course.

She strode into the room with purpose, reclining in the large chair at the head of the table with her legs crossed and her boots resting on the corner. She knew it irked the likes of Saurfang and Baine, even Lor’themar to some degree despite him formerly serving under her when she was Ranger-General of Silvermoon.

“Nice of you to join us,” Saurfang said, almost grumbling. She and Nathanos, who was seated to her left, both scowled at him.

“You know how long the trip from the Eastern Kingdoms can be now that we have no real foothold there,” she replied, what little patience she had already wearing thin. “What news?” She prompted. Baine cleared his throat.

“If I may, Warchief,” he began in his rich timbre. Sylvanas inclined her chin, indicating for him to continue. “Talks with the Alliance have been slow. I have been barely able to speak a few words with Anduin, and he is the only one who seems receptive to communication from us at all.” Sylvanas hummed quietly. Baine took a deep breath before continuing. “He does not seem ready to let go of Lordaeron, my Lady.”

Sylvanas suppressed a growl that boiled in her chest. Her eyes flared red for a moment and Lor’themar could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped a degree.

“They aren’t even _using_ it,” Sylvanas all but hissed, her intense protectiveness over her homeland and her people coursing through her veins like fire. “They’ve left it to _rot_ . They haven’t cleaned it. Haven’t gone back there. Not once.” She took her boots off the table and leaned forward. “They’ve hung it out to dry just like they did to _me.”_

The room was silent. Shadows had begun to rise from Sylvanas’ forearms like smoke but she quickly reined her anger in and leaned back again, though her feet remained on the floor. She looked at one of her gauntleted hands, inspecting its clawed fingertips.

“Keep trying,” she said, somewhat cold and distant. “They will see reason soon enough.”

“Warchie—“

“Enough, High Overlord,” Sylvanas cut him off quickly. “I will be taking no drastic measures so you can settle back into your seat.” He hadn’t even realized he’d begun to stand. “Too many lives have been lost and too many peoples displaced.” Saurfang and Baine weren’t quite sure they were hearing right. Sylvanas paid their surprised, inquisitive looks no mind and continued to look at her gauntlet. “We have worn them down. There is nothing more we can gain from this... _pissing_ contest we’re in with them. Not with the threat of the Naga on our doorstep.” Sylvanas finally looked back at the various Horde leaders that had gathered. “Baine,” she addressed the Chieftain sharply. “Continue your discussions with Anduin. Make it clear that we have no interest in getting militant with them over this but we will if we have to.” She smirked. “They don’t have to know that we won’t. They’ll expect us to make good on our threats now.” The Tauren nodded.

“I can do that,” he replied. “My rapport with Anduin remains strong.” Sylvanas bit back a hiss.

 _“I know,”_ she said coldly. “You’re lucky I didn’t string you up and imprison you.” Baine’s ears flattened against his head and he nodded. “I could always change my mind. But you’re of more use to me here than as _bait_ for the Alliance. Do not mistake this ceasefire as a change of heart. They are _all_ still culpable,” Sylvanas finished, taking even, unnecessary breaths to temper her anger against the Alliance. She’d only let Baine resume his duties as Chieftain because she knew Derek Proudmoore could still be of use to her, even all the way in Kul Tiras.

* * *

 

When she was finally able to retire from the evening and get away for the night, Sylvanas grumpily pulled her gauntlets off and dropped them heavily onto her personal war table. Covered with maps and scrolls and figurines representing the nations and their armies, She scowled at it. _I never asked for this,_ she thought angrily, bringing her hands up to begin unbuckling one of her pauldrons.

A ripple in the air made her freeze, however, ears quirked back and eyes flaring. She scented the air and, though dulled by her status as undead, she detected a hint of clove in the air. _Ah...she is here tonight,_ she thought, relaxing just a touch as she stopped working the buckles of her pauldron. She turned slowly towards the disturbance, rich red eyes piercing into the shadows across the room where the light of her table lantern didn’t quite reach.

The scent of cloves grew stronger as she sensed movement in the darkness. The slow rustle of cloth, the soft padding of leather boots as a figure stepped out of the darkness. Sylvanas relaxed more fully, though the scowl remained on her face somewhat.

Out of the shadows stepped a red leather boot, pale skin, red leather armor fit snug to a lithe form, and, finally, green eyes staring back at hers with an open, neutral expression.

“Valeera.”


	2. Quarters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's only been like...oh, a few months shy of a year since I wrote the first chapter to this, but this fic has honestly been on my mind ever since but I couldn't decide how I wanted to deliver the information in here? So I shelved it, tried to come back to it, shelved it again, rinse and repeat at least two more times, and now we're here! But I at least finally know what I'm doing, so it shouldn't be months and months until the next update! lol...

Valeera smiled at Sylvanas as she pulled her cloak over her head and away from her body. It was a cross between a smirk and the warm kind of acknowledgement usually reserved for one’s closest relationships.

“Good evening, Dark Lady,” Valeera all but purred at Sylvanas, draping her cloak over the back of the chair by where Sylvanas stood at her war table. Sylvanas regarded Valeera with her typical air of smug, royal semi-dominance, though it was perhaps a hint less cold than it tended to be.

“I don’t know that I’d call it  _ good, _ but...what news do you bring, my pet?” Sylvanas closed the two steps between them, tucking a stray blonde hair behind Valeera’s ear as she looked down at her — even with the rogue’s boots giving her an inch or two, Sylvanas’s much older Quel’dorei roots gave her a couple inches on the Sin’dorei.

Valeera’s ears twitched at the word ‘pet’ but she gave no other indication the Warchief’s words had affected her. She quirked an eyebrow in response.

“You know I prefer payment upfront,” she replied, voice low. Sylvanas regarded her through a narrowed but relaxed gaze.

“All right,” she said to the younger Elf, reaching to grab a pouch that rested on the back corner of her war table. She pushed the suede pouch into Valeera’s hands and her smirk grew a fraction of an inch when she felt the Blood Elf’s gloved fingers slide over hers quite unnecessarily.

Valeera placed the pouch in an enchanted pocket on her belt and leaned in towards Sylvanas, maintaining eye contact even as their faces were less than half a foot apart.

“What if it isn’t monetary payment I’m looking for tonight?” She purred at Sylvanas. Sylvanas hummed in response. “A reward? For a job well done?”

“We shall  _ see _ how well you did, Valeera, once you  _ tell _ me what you know,” Sylvanas replied. Valeera quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Perhaps we could work out a deal...a small reward for each piece of information I give you?” The pair half-smiled at each other, both clearly familiar with that game. Sylvanas leaned a bit closer to Valeera, their eyes barely able to focus on each other with how close they were. She looked down at the Blood Elf’s almost blood-red lips.

“And what, pray tell, do you need as payment upfront?” She murmured in a silky tone that echoed quietly between them with the otherworldly quality of her voice. Valeera’s smile widened a touch.

“Why don’t we begin with a kiss?” Valeera proposed, practically whispering. Sylvanas’s expression snapped into a satisfied smirk, eyes narrowed and burning like hot embers.

Sylvanas did not grace Valeera with a response, at least not verbally, opting instead to thread her fingers roughly into the younger Elf’s hair as she pressed her lips firmly to Valeera’s. The rogue’s posture slumped slightly at the touch of Sylvanas’s lips. Valeera groaned and reached her hands up, tangling one in Sylvanas’ hair and using the other to grasp at the Warchief’s back in an attempt to ground herself as her knees threatened to give out beneath her.

At Valeera’s instantaneous melting, Sylvanas bit back a growl and took Valeera’s lower lip between her teeth, pinching down with her fangs. It wasn’t hard enough to pierce her skin but the warning was still there and she felt Valeera’s grip in her hair tighten as she sagged further in her arms. Sylvanas broke the kiss for a moment, their lips still but an inch apart.

“My...you’re so  _ eager _ tonight,” she purred, self-satisfied and drinking in the power she held over the younger elf. Valeera, to her credit, attempted to glare at Sylvanas in response but its effect was drowned out by her posture, her breathing, and the heavy cloud of lust in her eyes. “Information?” Sylvanas teased, bolstering Valeera’s attempt at a glare. Valeera huffed in annoyance.

_ “Fine,”  _ she replied, certainly pouty but her voice still like silk, still trying to draw Sylvanas in. It somewhat worked, as Sylvanas couldn’t quite keep her hands from roaming, though she made no move to further things along. “Would you rather hear of Kul Tiras or Stormwind first?”

“Stormwind,” Sylvanas replied as though Valeera should know — and she should have. Sylvanas had not asked for news about Kul Tiras in some time, despite Derek Proudmoore’s impending return to his homeland...something Valeera herself would help orchestrate. “Unless there is something pressing that would cause you to bring Kul Tiras up in the first place.” Valeera hummed, pressing her lips to Sylvanas’s again.

“There’s not,” she assured the risen Elf. “I’ve simply continued to keep tabs.” Whether that was true or not, Sylvanas couldn’t quite be sure. Valeera was, after all, originally an  _ Alliance _ spy, not a double agent Sylvanas had coaxed into working for her by bedding her. “Stormwind, on the other hand...” Valeera continued, running one hand firmly down Sylvanas’s side. “There is more dissent among their ranks stemming from their leadership.”

Sylvanas let a satisfied noise halfway between a purr and a hum pass her lips as she pulled Valeera closer to her by her hips. She leaned down slightly to kiss the Sin’dorei’s neck, teasing the skin with the tips of her fangs. She could feel Valeera shudder in response, trying to press Sylvanas’s face further against her neck as though she wanted Sylvanas to bite already.

“More trouble with Whisperwind?” Sylvanas murmured against Valeera’s skin, kissing up the younger Elf’s neck to her ear, teasing the sensitive flesh with her teeth and tongue. Valeera let out a small, breathy noise.

_ “Yes,”  _ she all but hissed, tilting her head so Sylvanas had an easier time reaching her ear and neck. “She is all but completely off-the-grid, out of communication with the rest of the Alliance. King Wrynn has requested I look into things...quietly, of course.”

“And if I were to request to know the very same findings you bring to him?” Sylvanas murmured, pulling back ever so slightly to look down at Valeera, her eyes smouldering.

“You’d have to offer me a generous reward,” the Sin’dorei murmured with a sly smirk, her cheeks flushed from Sylvanas’s recent ministrations but her eyes like a vibrant green flame in their own right. Sylvanas matched Valeera’s smirk, though hers held an edge of the power she felt when it came to manipulating the various puzzle pieces she needed to line up for her endgame.

“I’m sure I can arrange that,” Sylvanas replied, steering Valeera towards her bed. “Now, tell me...how focused is the boy-king on the issue with Whisperwind?” She asked, her voice heavy with desire as Valeera’s knees hit the edge of the bed and the younger Elf crawled her way up to the pillows, never once turning away.

“Preoccupied enough,” Valeera murmured, watching Sylvanas patiently while leaning back on the headboard, her long, blonde hair tucked around to one side so it was freed from being pinned behind her but still out of the way. Sylvanas resumed the task of removing her armor that she’d begun before Valeera appeared, though she did so with much more grace than the frustration she’d held before.

“Preoccupied enough that he wouldn’t notice a smattering of Forsaken approaching Lordaeron?” Sylvanas inquired as she stripped down to her leather legguards, nothing else remaining on her body as she looked to see Valeera watching her with open hunger. Her self-satisfied smirk made its way back onto her lips at the sight.

“Maybe. But you’ll have to give me a little more to get more out of me about that,” Valeera drawled, proud of how collected she managed to keep herself even with the Banshee Queen mostly naked and crawling into bed above her.

Sylvanas looked down at Valeera as she began to remove Valeera’s armor, as well. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the process of disrobing one another, though a few breathy noises from Valeera interspersed with knowing smirks and languid kisses from Sylvanas still occurred.

“So tell me,” Sylvanas murmured, leaning over Valeera as she resumed kissing her neck. “How closely does the boy-king keep tabs on Lordaeron and its vicinity? If he even bothers to at all,” she continued between kisses as she trailed her way up to Valeera’s ear, her voice slightly muffled by Valeera’s skin beneath her lips.

“He—” Valeera paused to let out a breathy noise as Sylvanas nipped at the skin just below her ear. “He has patrols that survey Tirisfal at regular intervals, but they stay pretty clear of Lordaeron itself because of the blight.” She brought one hand up to tangle her fingers in Sylvanas’s hair, exhaling harshly as Sylvanas bit down more firmly.

“You can do better than  _ that,”  _ Sylvanas murmured before running the tip of her tongue teasingly along a portion of the shell of Valeera’s ear. Valeera suppressed a shudder.

“And so can you,” Valeera murmured, tugging at Sylvanas’s hair.

Sylvanas growled quietly. She looked down at Valeera with one brow raised, her eyes burning slightly.

“I will give more when you give  _ me  _ more,” she told the younger Elf, smirking when she saw Valeera give her a slight glare.

_ “Fine,”  _ Valeera huffed, running her fingers absentmindedly through Sylvanas’s hair in a way that made Sylvanas almost want to put a stop to their dalliance immediately. It was too tender a gesture for an arrangement such as theirs. Valeera saw the slight way Sylvanas narrowed her eyes in response and leaned up to kiss Sylvanas deeply. “There are three patrols in the day,” she murmured against Sylvanas’s lips, pausing with a hum when Sylvanas tugged at her lower lip. “...and three at night. They run in regular intervals through the different regions of Tirisfal. They’re concentrated mostly around the outskirts of Lordaeron and the remains of Brill.”

Sylvanas couldn’t help but tense slightly at the reminder of the swath of destruction the Alliance had brought through Tirisfal Glades. The way they all but razed Brill and the way their siege towers marred the land mirrored the Dead Scar in Quel’thalas perversely. She’d swept through the area at night, taking stock of the damages not long before she’d ventured into Lordaeron to assess whether or not the city would be able to be reclaimed easily. She really was beginning to loathe humans; first Arthas, then the rest of the Alliance...the northern portion of the Eastern Kingdoms was all but in ruins because of them. The thought was infuriating.

Valeera gently scratching behind one of her ears snapped her out of the thoughts effectively, and when she looked down at the younger elf she saw a look of almost  _ understanding  _ on her features, which caused Sylvanas to scowl. She had half a mind to throw the rogue out on the spot, a feeling only reinforced by Valeera’s tone and next words.

“Sylvanas...I’m sorry,” Valeera murmured, her voice soft as her green eyes searched Sylvanas’s. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to  _ what,  _ Sanguinar?” Sylvanas snapped quietly at Valeera, her own eyes flaring. Valeera’s ears drooped slightly. “We aren’t here to exchange  _ pleasantries,  _ we’re here for you to give me information.”

“Must you always get like this when something displeasing comes up?” Valeera asked, running her fingertips along the length of the ear she’d been scratching behind.

“I’m about ready to toss you out the window,” Sylvanas murmured lowly, her ear trying to twitch away from Valeera’s touch.

“But you won’t,” Valeera responded, her voice almost smug. Sylvanas continued to glare at Valeera for a moment.

“I hate you,” Sylvanas finally ground out between half-clenched teeth.

“No, you don’t,” Valeera replied, smug again, as she leaned up to kiss Sylvanas’s frowning lips. Begrudgingly, she kissed back.

“No, I don’t,” she murmured against Valeera’s lips, still clearly annoyed but trying to let go of her anger. No easy feat, really, but Valeera  _ was  _ right.

“You need this as much as I do,” Valeera murmured in response. If their eyes hadn’t been closed as they deepened the kiss, Sylvanas would have rolled her eyes and Valeera would have seen a hint of playful disdain therein.

“What I  _ need,  _ Sanguinar, is information,” Sylvanas murmured as she left Valeera’s lips in favor of kissing down to her neck again. Valeera craned her head to give Sylvanas more room to kiss and nibble.

“The patrols are spaced evenly,” Valeera continued between steadying breaths as Sylvanas’s hands began to roam her body. “The day patrols have three hours between their starts, beginning at sunrise. Same with the night, beginning at sunset.” She inhaled sharply when Sylvanas bit down on her pulse point. “I could show you their loops on the map later,” she murmured.

“Mm, do that,” Sylvanas replied, kissing down to Valeera’s chest. She teased Valeera’s nipples with tongue and with teeth, tugging at them gently. Valeera’s grip tightened in Sylvanas’s hair. “And what of Whisperwind?” She asked after a moment. “Surely you’ve gleaned  _ some _ information on her plans or whereabouts. You work swiftly, after all,” she murmured as she kissed back up to Valeera’s lips, looking down at her expectantly as she ran one hand firmly down Valeera’s side. Valeera smirked up at her.

“Indeed I have,” she drawled as Sylvanas’s hand lowered to her hip. “And I haven’t yet told anyone,” she continued as Sylvanas ran her thumb along one of the cords of muscle that formed defined lines down each side of her pelvis towards a sparse span of wispy blonde hair. Her tone made it clear she could be convinced to tell Sylvanas first — a fact which pleased Sylvanas greatly.

_ Good,  _ Sylvanas thought.  _ Cracks in her loyalty to House Wrynn. Perhaps she truly does desire this rather than simply using it to her  _ **_own_ ** _ advantage.  _ Sylvanas let her fingers brush over Valeera’s pubic mound, running them through the relatively soft hair there. She looked back up at Valeera’s eyes with a smirk of her own, her eyes seemingly burning a deeper shade of red. It took a lengthy moment of her toying with Valeera’s pubes, never quite reaching her core, before Valeera spoke again.

_ “Convince  _ me,” she murmured, rolling her hips up towards Sylvanas’s touch. Her green eyes shone with mischief, as though they were doubling down on her challenge. And, with the way Valeera combined teasing submission and easy confidence, for a moment, Sylvanas wasn’t quite sure who was seducing who anymore.

But it truly was only for a moment, as she felt the need to possess Valeera entirely, to break that confident smirk into broken noises of surrender. She quickly moved to kiss Valeera deeply. At the same time, she ran her fingers deftly through the younger elf’s folds, finding her  _ quite  _ wet. She nipped at Valeera’s lower lip, tugging on it gently before releasing and kissing her again. Sylvanas’s kiss left no room for doubt as to who was in charge in their arrangement, a matter only emphasized by the small noises Valeera released into their kiss and the way she arched into Sylvanas’s touch.

The idea of gaining information on Tyrande Whisperwind that the Alliance — Tyrande’s own  _ faction  _ — did not possess was entirely too enticing. Sylvanas wondered if she could bargain with the rogue to withhold that information from the Alliance entirely. She wondered if it was too early for that, just yet — if it was too soon to sway things so heavily in her favor. But she knew it would happen. She knew she would come to have the lion’s share of Valeera’s loyalty — pun intended, of course. She knew it because of how easily the rogue admitted she needed the arrangement. Offhandedly, almost, as if her need was common knowledge rather than a betrayal of loyalty. And, to Sylvanas, it was. Though their arrangement was relatively new in the grand scheme of how long tensions between the two factions had been rising, it was far from their first coupling. The way Sylvanas knew just when to slide one finger deep into Valeera’s core based on how rapid and shallow her breathing was spoke to that quite clearly.

There would be ample time for Sylvanas to ruminate on when she’d be able to sway Valeera’s loyalties in her favor later, though. First, she had some  _ convincing  _ to do.


End file.
